


The Most Important Sound

by breakdowngoddess



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Future, Gay Arthur, M/M, Poor Merlin, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:18:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakdowngoddess/pseuds/breakdowngoddess
Summary: The man who came to young Arthur was lovely. Truly everything about him was perfect. But, like all good things in Arthur's life, he had to go away too. Unfortunately, the dark haired man never uttered the most important thing within any language, his Name.





	1. Preface

_Arthur remembers him. The beautiful wisp of a man who came to him in his youth, whenever he was alone. Dark hair and cheekbones, he caressed him against his chest, crying. His eyes would shine amber and magic would appear, giving fun and life to Arthur. They would meet in the fields beyond Arthur’s father's house, every moment that they could. The man would tell Arthur stories, of a time of myth and a land of magic. A place with knights and magic and sorcerers. He told Arthur that he was a king and that he was there to serve him, Arthur. Sometimes Arthur would ask the man what his name was. He would smile softly and reply “Someday, my king. You will remember and find me. Only then will you know my name.”_   
_The man was the best thing about Arthur’s young life. He would listen to him and treat him like an adult. He would give him gifts and speak like old friends. He was the only thing that was right. And that is how Arthur remembers him. The handsome man in the field who loved him. Arthur told his father about him, the mysterious man. Then Arthur could not see him anymore. Arthur’s family started to become scary. His father would yell at his mother and she would yell back. He was caught in the crossfire, given everything he wanted to appease what he saw. In the middle of his 9th year, they split up his time between the two of them. His pure little heart was given every material pleasure, spoiling him. It wasn’t long until he felt entitled to the world._   
_Arthur went to a boarding school and fit right in with everyone there. He was the top of his class, the perfect little prince. He played sports and did well in academics, but had a secret. He didn’t fancy women like his classmates. In his free time, he would draw a dark haired man with prominent cheekbones and wild eyes. He would dream about him. Long dreams that took place in a kingdom, a swirl of color and missed opportunities. He would wake with words echoing in his head._   
_“Jus-Just hold me...Please.”_   
_“Thank you.”_   
_“I can’t lose him!”_   
_He would always wake to want to say more. Sad because he had said thank you. He had meant to say, I Love You._   
_Every day he would pretend to be something else. Something that his parents would be proud of, something his classmates would accept. Arthur pretended not to be hung up on what happened in his youth, sometimes thinking that this handsome, lovely, funny man was what his parents told him. A pedophile. But then he would remember that he didn’t do anything to him. Just held him and told him stories. Every day Arthur considers telling his classmates that no, he didn’t want to talk about girls. Tell them that all that mattered was the handsome man who he has ripped away from. But he wouldn’t. They would shun him. Tell him to go away, stop following his princely leave. Arthur quickly left boarding school and entered a private and renowned university, where he vowed to forget the loving man who so strongly affected his life._   
_Nothing really went as he planned._


	2. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur never really liked coffee, but today, he needs it.

The sun spread its golden light over the skyline of London, working its way past every door and side street, perusing its way into every window. It wasn’t like Arthur to see this sunrise. Not because he in any way avoided the crack of dawn, it was only that he rarely got up early enough. Today was different, and as he sat in the window of a quaint little coffee shop at approximately 6:34 am he sipped his coffee, lost in thought. Today was his first day officially on his own. Away from every responsibility that his upscale arts professors put upon him, away from the strict training and responsibility that his high school put on him, and most of all, away from his parents.  
The last time that Arthur had watched the sunrise it had been at the large house that his mother and father had owned together, soon to be lost in the shock of the divorce. He was nine years old, watching eagerly as the sun rose above the trees and lit the garden with a golden light. This is what he had done every warm summer day up to that point, waited for the sun to seep into the sky and then run down, past the sweet summer roses, through his parents eagerly trimmed garden, across a small wooden bridge and then into the warm embrace of the dark haired man. The last time Arthur saw the sun rise was also the last time he saw the blue in the young man’s eyes shine golden yellow with magic. Because that day, he had told his father. That day, the world had shattered into pieces.  
Arthur never really cared for coffee. In fact, he rather despised the stuff. But, like most students working for a double major in both Art and Business, he developed a coffee addiction early on into his studies. Now, free from all responsibility, Arthur almost gagged on the hot bitter stuff as it made its way past his lips. Shame, honestly. But today he needed the energy.  
The early morning light began to harshen as Arthur sat there, the cafe slowly becoming busier, customers trickling in like a faucet leaking. Arthur finished his coffee when the noise started to pick up, the hipsters and grouchy businesspeople making small talk about nothing. All this nonsense annoyed Arthur, although he regularly participated in it himself. This particular morning, Arthur didn’t have time for his conversations with the barista or patrons, and just hurried out the door.  
Arthur slammed into a dark haired person as he opened the door. He barely heard the muted response, in a soft low voice that sounded vaguely familiar.  
“Oh. Damn. Sorry”  
“Watch where you’re going!” Arthur snapped looking down at the man who had a worn red scarf around his neck and had dropped his messenger bag due to the collision of Arthur with his shoulder.  
The man looked up, his deep blue eyes shining.  
“Whatever you say, Sire.” The dark haired man rushed down the street and disappeared. Arthur just stood there, stunned.  
Shaking himself out of the strange coma that this person had set upon him Arthur attempted to walk down the street, setting his jaw. He could not get those words out of his head, the way the stranger had said ‘Sire’ felt so familiar. Like he had heard it every day of his life. And then there was the face, cocky smiling up at him, all cheekbones and a soft jaw and dark, joyful eyes. He knew that face. He had drawn that face for every day in high school, ignoring his peers, and just trying to make sense of why he was taken.  
There was no mistake. It was him. Arthur could just picture the eyes glowing, the angular hand holding out, the soft words in some other language being muttered so close to his ear. The simple sound of his voice sent shivers down his spine. Then, suddenly he stopped, and his reality ripped.  
 _Uneasy eyes looking at him, and the voice credulous, the dark haired man with a red scarf looked him up and down. Arthur’s chainmail hung heavy on his shoulders, but he was used to it. The man spoke:_  
 _“You came back to look for me.”_  
 _The light was amber light surrounding them and Arthur opened his mouth,_ begrudgingly _stating:_

 _“_ Alright _, it’s true.”_  
 _Arthur was purposely not looking at him, then he did._  
 _“I came back because you’re the only friend I have and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”_  
 _Then the two pairs of blue eyes, so similar and so different, softly examined each other, lost in the simplicity of the statement._

Then, Arthur was ripped back into the morning, standing on a city street, harsh morning light shining into his eyes. It took too much time to get his bearings, and when he finally did, he almost fell over. He couldn’t even remember what he was supposed to do today. He just kept hearing forgotten words echoing in his head.  
“Shit.” Hearing his own voice was painful, and he slowly began to walk. Today was Wednesday. Today was the first day that he was truly on his own. Today was the day that he was going to start to open his own gallery. Today was supposed to be a lot of things. Today was the day that he found him.  
That wasn’t supposed to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter has weird grammar and passive voice, I wrote this at 11 at night and had no time to edit it  
> I hope I can update more often, I absolutely love this pairing...  
> Thank you all so much for leaving Kudos and comments,  
> You are the best!


	3. Memories don't quiet the noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is being bombarded by memories from the past he can't remember and wants answers.

_Arthur looked up at the other young man, who, in all honesty, did not look threatening in any way. Arthur then lifted his eyebrows, smiled, and stated: “I could take you apart with one blow” He felt mildly proud of himself for that response, for his wit--not that it was in any way spectacular, but Arthur was trying to intimidate this man. Arthur wasn’t expecting the reply: “I could take you apart with less than that.” Said coolly and quickly, just as Arthur had stated his threat. Something about the dark hair and deep blue eyes and the very confidence in which he stated it made Arthur believe this man.. Almost._

“Arthur Pendragon--are you listening to me?”

It was getting quite annoying. These Interrupted memories. Arthur supposed them to be memories, they must, because they felt just as real-maybe more- than the other memories that he retained. He could only hope that they weren't some hallucinogenics someone had slipped into his coffee. Never know, it could be possible. Had this other life/hallucinogen him actually said: “I could take you apart with one blow”? That was charged with more than a threat for a fight, but something else. Did the other Arthur know that? How sheltered was he? These glimpses into the past, the other world, were beautiful, old, medieval even. The memories almost always took him by surprise, always triggered by something. This time, it was the woman in front of him. Arthur was walking through a cooking supplies store as a favor for his cousin, Morgana, and was on a phone call with his father. That's when he saw the woman, wearing a faded brown jacket and a gray scarf. It all came flying back. He remembered the courtyard, the clink of metal from the blacksmith, the sound of peasants and common folk talking, the chink of weapons banging together. He felt this other Arthur’s annoyance and strange fondness for the man who was in front of him. What a fool… how could he ever deliver on the promises that he made, to take Arthur, the crown prince of Camelot, apart? “ I could take you apart with less than that.” Now back in his own body, Arthur full heartedly believed that. But did the other Arthur know the extent of this man’s power? Did the other Arthur know who this man was? The Arthur that had the ability to get to know this dark haired wisp, to map out the prominent cheekbones and playful eyes. The Arthur that could listen to that meaningful voice, both when it was full of mirth and full of sorrow. The Arthur that could hold that awkward, angular body, and touch those soft, beautiful lips. Arthur was brutally ripped from his thoughts as his father practically screamed at him from his earbuds.

“Arthur Pendragon! Are you listening to me? Don’t you dare ignore me, this is important.” Uther Pendragon’s voice could sober any drunk, and Arthur quickly made amends that, yes, of course, he was listening, and that Uther should absolutely continue one-sidedly discussing the trade fluctuations and economic backfires and such.

Then he heard the man’s voice echo into his head again.

_“What are you doing?” He asked, older now, his hair still dark and his scarf red this time. Arthur definitely knew that scarf. It was like he had seen it every day of his life. Arthur crinkled up his face and replied: “Thinking.” He_

_“Thinking.” He_ must have _done something to make this other young man mad, as he replied, containing his anger: “You--Thinking?_

 _“You--Thinking?_ Well _, now I’m really getting worried.” He looked distasteful._

_Arthur replied, childishly: “Shut up.”_

 

“Shut up.” 

“What did you just say to me, young man?” Uther Pendragon was back in Arthur’s ear.

“Nothing, nothing,” Arthur responded, trying not to curse. This whole memory thing was getting worse. Now he was acting like the other Arthur.

“You said shut up. To your father!” Arthur tuned his father out after that. After not exactly listening to a lecture about respect, Arthur quickly told his father that--no, no, he really didn’t need a lecture and that, yes, yes, he would call him later with the sums regarding the American Stock Exchange, and no, no, he really didn’t have any more time to talk to his father. By this time Arthur had already bought the food processor for Morgana, paid for it, walked down the street, and sat down at a cafe. All while having strange conversations with strangers saying that, no he wasn’t talking to them or himself, just the man that was on a phone call through his earbuds. Why this was so hard for them to understand, Arthur had no idea.

Arthur set the box containing the food processor down and proceed to slump down on the sticky wooden table. Why wouldn’t these memories stop? Why had they not told them this dark haired man’s name? Why was Arthur so pitiful? No, that last one wasn’t fair. In no way was Arthur Pendragon, son of the most powerful businessmen in Europe, pitiful. He was simply pining for a time more than a 1000 years ago. Camalot. Wait… did this mean that he was Prince Arthur… the king? How had this taken so long to figure out? He was King Arthur. In some other, trippy, magic life. Suddenly everything made sense. Laying there on the table of the Cafe, he knew what to do. As he was gathering his things, he heard the barista call out a name.

“Meeerlen? Merliin? Merlin… Nevermind… Double shot espresso for a man with the name Mirlin?” Then Arthur saw a swift, dark-haired man in a leather jacket grab the drink and leave.

_Merlin. This memory was lucid, and Arthur felt like that was how he must have experienced it. His body was convulsing in so much pain. He saw the man…. Merlin…. Above him. His eyes so sad._

_His voice bubbled out of him, and he said to Merlin above him “I don’t want you...to change.”_

_“I want you. To always be you….”_

_“I’m sorry for the way I treated you…”_

_Arthur said all these things and couldn’t tell whether or not Merlin heard them. If Merlin cared. But he cared so deeply for Merlin. He couldn’t believe that he was leaving him._

_“There is something I want… to say….” Arthur said this, craning his neck to Merlin, who bowed his head and told him:_

_“You are not going to say goodbye.” He was firm on this point. No changing Merlin’s mind when he was stubborn._

_“No, Merlin. … Everything you’ve done. I know now… For me…. For Camelot. For the kingdom, you helped me build…” Arthur was trying really hard, but he saw how Merlin had risked his life for him. Loved him. Merlin loved him. But… even in his moment of death, King Arthur was too weak to say it. Might as well try._

_“You’d done it without me.” This was Merlin now, bringing Arthur out of his thoughts._

_“Maybe. I want to say…” Arthur thought for a moment- “Something I’ve never said to you before….” He got up his nerve and lost it._

_“Thank you.” He hoped Merlin understood that he meant, “ I love you and I always will” But he didn’t know._

_He saw and felt the light and life drain out of the other Arthur’s body, out of his body._

_He, floating above, saw Merlin grieve. Saw him, from afar, living his life, never dying. Becoming old, regenerating. Arthur watched as his body regenerated in his mother’s body, how Merlin could sense that, and played with Arthur when he was a boy. He saw all of this._ Arthur just wanted to tell Merlin that he did. That he loved him. Arthur sat in the cafe, trying to remember who he was, in this lifetime. He heard the bell on the door ring and saw Merlin…. Yes Merlin, walk outside. Arthur got up, tripping over himself, And ran after his manservant.

His friend.

His lover.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I wrote this in like fifteen minutes.   
> Please comment, I love constructive criticism and compliments!  
> -Margo

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a Merthur story (or any published fanfiction). I will honestly try to create an actual world out of it, as it is all in my head. Anyway, I hope you like it! Please feel free to comment or whatever.. All is appreciated!


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